Sticks and Stones
by SomeStoryWriter
Summary: A collection of Abusive!FACE family one-shots
1. Contents

**1\. Contents**

Summaries (taken from AO3)

* * *

 **2\. Just a Little Bit Longer**

"As soon as we have enough money, we'll run. Just a little bit longer, Matt. Please stay strong just a little bit longer."

* * *

 **3\. Tough Love**

"I hate him." Matthew blinked away his tears. "He may love me in his own twisted way, but after everything he's done, I've grown to hate him."


	2. Just a Little Bit Longer

**First of all, England and France are amazing characters and I'm sorry I'm using them this way.**

 **Second, this story is one chunk of raw emotion. No thought-out structure, no pretty dialogue. I will look into polishing it later when I can be a bit more objective about it. But raw emotion has its value, too, if only for other people to relate to. That's why it gets posted in this form anyway.**

 **Third, trigger warning: abuse, unhealthy coping mechanisms, etc.**

 **Stay safe, stay strong, and have a beautiful day. You rock.**

* * *

They were at it again. Matthew covered his ears to block out the yelling.

"It's called decent parenting!"

"One hundred years ago, yes!"

"Don't pretend like I'm the one who doesn't know what I'm talking about! You should take a good look at yourself and maybe actually think about the children for once!"

" _I_ should?"

Alfred slipped into Matthew's bedroom and closed the door behind him. "Fucking hypocrites."

"Please, let them stop," Matthew sobbed. His heart was pounding like crazy and he feared he might completely zone out again. Not that it seemed like such a bad idea, taking a little mental trip elsewhere.

Alfred sat down next to him on the floor and wrapped an arm around him. "I've tried everything. I've cried, I've begged, I've approached them rationally..."

"I hurt myself, smoked some bad stuff, ended up in suicidal crisis..."

"They're not going to change." He squeezed his brother's shoulder. "No matter how much harm they cause us."

"Do you think they even realize what they're doing?"

"That's the worst part, Matt. I think they both genuinely think they're the good guys."

"I hate it here. I hate Mother's Day and Father's Day and this whole crap about happy families. It's not real. It doesn't exist."

"I think it does exist, somewhere out there. But I simply don't deserve it."

"What if I were just a little better, huh? Just a little smarter, and a little less awkward, and a little kinder. Surely that'd make a difference?"

"I'm not sure anymore."

"Maybe you should for once cook a decent meal!" Francis yelled. "Alfred's not getting any skinnier!"

"I fucking heard that, asshole," Alfred breathed.

"They think we don't have ears or something." Matthew hugged his stuffed bear. "I heard Dad mention how he thinks I'm too old for Kumajiro and how it's best to swiftly take him away from me, like a band-aid. I've been hiding him ever since. You and Kumajiro are the only ones I trust."

Alfred wiped his eyes. "My grades are falling again. Won't be long before they give me shit about that again."

"You're trying."

"Not enough."

Matthew looked at his feet. "I need new shoes. Mine are falling apart."

"Don't let them hear it."

"It's so mean! They insist on buying things for us, but then they start complaining about how much money it costs. Like, if it's such a problem, then just let me buy it myself! No need to be so shitty about it."

"But if they buy it, they can declare themselves Good Parents for all the 'sacrifices' they make."

"Well, if it's so terrible to parent us, why don't they just throw us out? I wouldn't mind. I'm dying to leave this place."

"As soon as we have enough money, we'll run. Just a little bit longer, Matt. Please stay strong just a little bit longer."

"I'm trying to. That's why I'm about to start therapy for the fifth time."

The yelling intensified and Alfred took out his iPod. He inserted the splitter, so they could attach two pairs of headphones to completely block out the sounds. They could each listen to their own devices, but this felt less lonely. Alfred pressed shuffle and they both closed their eyes, embracing each other. Retreating into their own little world.

The first song was loud metal. Matthew's music. He let the sound fill his head entirely, drawing everything else out, not caring that the sound was a little too loud to be healthy for his ears. It was an escape, a drug almost. God, he needed a hit right now.

Next up was Frozen's Let it Go. Alfred loved Disney. Matthew suspected that he found the hope and love there that he didn't receive at home. Arthur called it childish. Matthew liked to think of it as survival.

 _Just a little bit longer._

 _Just a little bit longer._

Alfred paused the music. "They've stopped."

"You should go back to your room. If they find you out of bed, they'll get angry all over again."

"Don't harm yourself, or drink, or blow, okay?"

"Okay. And you don't eat. And if you do, don't throw up."

"Got it. 'Night, Matt."

"Goodnight." Matthew crawled into bed, clutching Kumajiro. In some ways, the silence afterwards was even worse. But nothing hurt as much as the faked happiness that would come after. He took a deep breath.

Just a little bit longer.


	3. Tough Love

**Again, nothing against Arthur and Francis, just venting.**

 **It'd be hypocrite of me to say "Don't do drugs, kids!", so I won't. But remember, drugs may help for an hour or so, but it's no long-term solution. There are hundreds of better ways to deal with problems. Drugs and alcohol themselves aren't solutions, but a way to postpone finding one.**

 **Show the world you are strong enough to handle shit sober.**

 **I believe in you.**

 **Have a beautiful day!**

* * *

Alfred parked his bike and eagerly opened the back door. He was hungry and tired and looked forward to dinner and a hot bath afterwards. He kicked off his shoes, glad to be back from his Saturday job. As soon as he entered the hallway, however, his heart sunk.

"Do you think money grows on trees?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"I work my ass off to provide for you, and this is how you treat your stuff? It's always the same with you two! You don't give a damn how hard I work every day for your sakes!"

Alfred contemplated going to the living room and backing Matthew up. But he was so tired, and the evening was still so young. If he interfered now, dinner would be a nightmare for him as well. "I'm sorry, Mattie..." He ran upstairs and closed his bedroom door behind him. He laid down on his bed, his muscles refusing to relax. The tension would probably be trapped in his body for at least a few more hours. He took out his headphones and played his music, turned it up a little louder, and then louder still until the shouting couldn't get through to him anymore. He found a stray pack of biscuits in his bag and started steadily munching. He wasn't even sure why he did it anymore. All he knew was that it calmed him down when he most needed it.

After a while, he heard footsteps on the stairs. He listened, and when he was sure they were Matthew's, he got up and tiptoed over to his room. "Matt? Can I come in?"

"Yeah, sure."

Matthew was leaning out of the window, a joint already lit between his lips.

"You know Dad will kill you if he finds that stuff here," Alfred said. He sat down on the bed. "What happened?"

"I dropped my phone. The screen's broken."

"Didn't you have it repaired two months ago?"

"Yeah. Dad's furious. It's like he thinks I did it on purpose." He blew a cloud of sweet smoke out of the window. "Does he hate me?"

"Who?"

"Dad. He must hate me, right? Apparently, parents who love their children don't say mean things to them."

Alfred sat down next to Matthew on the windowsill and held out his hand. "To get me through dinner." Matthew handed him the joint and he took a long drag. I think Dad does love us, in a way." He handed back the joint. "I think he loves the idea of us. The status of being a father. Having two children looking up to him must be nice for his self-esteem. But as soon as any real parenting needs to be done, he's out."

"We're like furniture. Nice to have, but shouldn't require any attention."

"Exactly." Alfred stole another drag from his brother. "I can just see the discomfort on his face when he needs to make any sort of effort for us unless it's something he can brag about later."

"I hate him." Matthew blinked away his tears. "He may love me in his own twisted way, but after everything he's done, I've grown to hate him."

"You'll never hear me blame you for that."

"Boys, dinner's ready!" Francis called.

Matthew put out the joint and Alfred grabbed his hands. "We've got to go downstairs. Show me a smile."

Matthew smiled, and it was so real, that anyone would have thought him to perfectly content. They'd become experts at it.

They went downstairs, relying on the drugs to get them through the next round.


End file.
